These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

I recently introduced my daughter to the movie The Sound of Music. Well, by introduced I mean I ordered it on Netflix and we watched half of it. (So far.) We've talked about getting it since I sometimes sing Do-Re,-Mi to her when she is going to bed and wanted her to hear Julie Andrews sing it. (Of course, the daring, heart-pounding escape from the Nazis might not make for the most restful bed-time thoughts, now that I think of it. But, like I said -- we haven't gotten to that part yet.)

In the meantime, the movie has made me think about that other sweet song, "These Are a Few of My Favorite Things."

With summer winding down here, I decided to compile this little list of a few of our favorite things in northern New Jersey.

Made With Love - downtown Jersey City. We adore this little gem of a bakery on Newark Ave. Last year, in fact, I threw a little dinner party for myself there (it was my birthday) and created my own, ultimate "Girls Night Out." The bakery uses all organic ingredients and everything tastes wonderful. This year I also ordered buttermilk scones for my daughter's class for a special event and the owner and head baker delivered them herself, fresh from the oven, right to the school! We are hoping someday they will introduce gluten-free products to their lineup, like this place.

Van Saun County Park - Paramus (tucked away off Route 3). This park has it all and is worth the drive from Jersey City or Hoboken. They have a beautiful old-fashioned carousel, a large zoo, an irresistable choo choo train that runs around the outside of the zoo, a large playground area -- and, wait for it: pony rides! It's awesome. This week my daughter is doing a "pony camp" there and it's been a lot of fun, especially today when she demonstrated her skills and trotted with a pony named Finn (with a counselor jogging alongside them.) You can easily spend a day here.

River view Park and Washington Heights Park - Palisade Ave., and Central Ave, respectively. We have to represent, since we live in the Heights! Both of these parks have been renovated. Riverview has spectacular views of Manhattan, room to run around and play soccer, and a nice sized playground. (The very steep slide here is a family favorite.) There's also a community garden tucked in one corner (near Ogden) which is definitely worth checking out. On Sundays there is a newly established Farmer's Market. Washington Park recently underwent a massive overhaul; it boasts all new tennis courts, a large area with picnic tables, and one of the biggest playgrounds anywhere -- including a small toddler area and a fun, large climbing structure that looks like a barn, plus plenty of slides. It's also got a big sprinkler park. We used to drive to Hoboken for sprinklers, but now we don't have to. Both parks have vibrant park associations.

The Clearview Cinema in Hoboken. Just down the viaduct running from Jersey City to the north end of Hoboken, this relatively new theater is convenient and usually has at least one kid movies playing.

The public libraries. The beautiful Main Library in Jersey City is a frequent stop for us, but did you know that Jersey City residents can get a special sticker added to their library card which gives us privileges to the Hoboken library? Both libraries are near parks, so it's an easy little outing to combine a trip to pick up books and play outside. Plus, the Hoboken library has a very large children's room which is fun to explore, especially if your kids have already checked out the kid's room in the Jersey City branch.

Trailways

This morning my six year old asked me when she would be old enough to walk to school by herself. She was watching two sisters walk ahead of her, towards the open doors of her school. "How come they get to walk to school by themselves?" she protested.

I pointed out that their mother was just across the street, following their progress with an eagle eye. She sighed and trudged ahead. I was thinking to myself - yeah, you can walk alone to school when you are walking across your college campus to class, sister! I mean, who wants to let their kids walk anywhere alone these days? Maybe if we lived in a tree-lined suburb where hoards of children filled the sidewalks, ambling to school together. But we live in a city and I drive her to school. She's free to play in our backyard, and sometimes to play in front of the house with the three children who live next door - but that's about it.

All of this got me thinking about the extraordinary amount of freedom I was given as a child -- I was a child who also grew up in the city. Sure, in retrospect, I think my parents were a bit too lenient, but those were different times. All that independence did however make me strong and street savvy and resourceful. I'd like to strike a balance with my daughter, but right now all I can muster is letting her play in front of the house, drawing with chalk on the sidewalk with the neighbor children, all the while knowing that if I'm not peering out of the window looking out for them, her grandmother is, or the the mom or dad or grandparents of the other children, will be.

My own solo traveling began at an early age. On Saturdays I would strap on my roller skates and leave our house to glide (if you can call rolling on those old metal wheels "gliding") to the PATH train station about 10 blocks away. From there I would get on a train to Greenwich Village and roller skate to a pantomime class. (Really.) I was probably in sixth or seventh grade, and all of my classmates also traveled alone, by subway usually, to our class.

Later I took the train in to go to other classes, like acting and voice. I had a key to our house and during the school week often came home for lunch by myself (sneaking a little TV time in, since no one was home). The really big trips entailed my mom driving me through the Lincoln Tunnel into the Port Authority, where she would wait with me until the Adriondack Trailways bus would pull up. Then I would board the bus and travel almost two hours north to Ulster County where my father lived in a rambling house by a lake.

I remember the first time I took the bus by myself - how my mom made sure that I sat in the front near the driver and how I talked his ear off the whole time. Eventually the ride became just another normal part of my routine, and I would do homework, watch the scenery and read.

One of the positive things that came out of this I suppose -- besides the aforementioned independence -- is a love for travel and a fearlessness to do it, alone. I'm not known in my family for fearlessness -- quite the opposite. When I left New York on a fellowship after graduate school that would take me near Russia, I planned some solo travel there. I also bought all sorts of insurance to get me home and get me medical evacuation if needed. My cousin's eyes grew wide as I reviewed my policies with him. So yeah, I'm not exactly a carefree person. (How many 20-somethings do you know that carry a travel policy for accidental amputation?)

The point is, I went on those trips -- and I did it my way. As summer approaches, I am about to take my daughter on her first international trip (OK, it's only Canada, but still!). I hope the journey fosters in her a lifelong desire for (considered and careful) adventure and exploration.

Now you'll have to excuse me as I'm overdue to call the Passport office.

Family Life: Just a snapshot

As mother's day approaches, I turn to one of my favorite photos. (Well, to be honest, it's one of my favorites that shows my daughter in a discreet way - because posting photos of her on the Internet is something I try generally to avoid.)

I love this image though, because she is running with such carefree joy and it was taken at a family gathering in Maine. She was too young to remember this trip, but old enough to really enjoy the gorgeous weather and landscape that surrounded us. The feel of the grass on her feet. The breeze on her skin as her cousins pushed her on an old wooden swing that hung from the rafters of the barn.

It also makes me think of the things that aren't pictured -- my mother, who was there with us, when she was healthy and not ravaged by the cancer she has been fighting now for more than a year. My disabled sister, who was there with us in Maine as well, walking with her cane, and caution and the help of our strapping cousins, down the green sloping lawn.

This year I think I'll frame this photo and hang it up, as a Mother's Day gift to myself. As a reminder of childhood joy, and family, and summer time.

Throwing Our Children Under the (School) Bus

There are a lot of ways I try to protect my child and when there's a good teachable moment, I take it. I've told her what to do if she ever gets separated from me and her dad. And yes, I've had discussions with her about how her body belongs to her and only her, and what to do if anyone ever touches her in an uncomfortable way, and what to do if anyone ever tries to lure her towards their car. I make her practice saying "No - get away from me! I don't know you," in a loud voice.

There are other ways to harm children though. And others ways a loud voice can come in handy.

Recently the schools superintendent in our district said -- publicly -- that the biggest problem in our under-performing Jersey City schools was "bad" girls.

I could feel my blood pressure rising. It's not just because I am the mother of a girl, or even that I was once a student in the Jersey City public schools. When Dr. Charles T. Epps put down the girls in our town, he put them all down and he told everyone, including them, that he thinks they can't succeed.

I would expect an educator to know how much words can hurt children. Our superintendent doesn't seem to be worried about this, and apparently, neither is the School Board which has not censured him, despite the fact that what he said was outrageous and unacceptable. Did I mention that the majority of the schools in this district are failing? Did I tell you about the complaints people have about the administration? Did I mention that our superintendent makes so much money he needs a special waiver from Gov. Christie - who has put a cap on superintendent's salaries in the Garden State - to keep collecting his paycheck?

Well, I got so incensed about the situation, I went to speak at the Board of Education meeting held recently. While I was there, I held up a picture of my six-year-old daughter, to let the Board and the administration know, we are talking about real students here, real girls - and no child should be told they are "bad" (or "dirty" or "nasty" - which Dr. Epps also called our students.)

None of our students should be told they are nasty; it sends a message that the adults at the helm of this huge educational system, the people in charge of their very education, don't believe in them. It throws every one of them under the bus.

Here's the good news: getting involved in this fight means I have made more of connection with the parents in my community - especially with some of the other mothers in this area. We aren't in this alone. All we need now are leaders who aren't afraid to stand up and lead. Lord knows if they won't, a pack of pissed off moms will.

A Sister's Story

The critical care nurse did not mince her words with me: "Your sister is never going to wake up," she said. "You will never have another conversation with her."

I took a sharp inhale and nodded. On the cusp of turning 30, my beautiful, free-spirited and adventurous kid sister, Jorelle -- the woman who had traveled alone to Alaska, Peru and Australia, the woman who left New York after 9/11 "because every bone in my body was telling me to go" - was lying in a coma in the next room.

It was Valentine's Day, 2005, and she had left her boyfriend's house to drive on the winding roads that would lead to her dance class. The weather was bad, her car was old, and black ice sent her spinning into oncoming traffic. Except for stitches in her head and the constant hum of medical equipment, she looked normal when I first saw her in the hospital. Her small, powerful dancer's frame lay tucked beneath white blankets.

I leaned over the rail of her hospital bed, my breasts swollen with milk from nursing my newborn baby, and taped a small photo of her two-month old niece to the top of her bed. I held her hand. I told her to come back to us. Other days, I told her it was OK to leave. I was terrified she would remain forever in a vegetative state. I was terrified she would die. Family and friends came and went in a steady stream. My best friends talked with me on the phone daily. Girlfriends, cousins and sister-in-laws came to help with the baby.

One day we went to my sister's small apartment in a nearby town. I sat in her bedroom, collecting her journals (so no visitors could read them), fingering her clothes and the wonderful lampwork jewelery she had made from hand after learning how to create intricate glass beads. I was sure we would be coming back here to empty the apartment, that she would never escape the coma she lay in.

I looked down at my infant, asleep on the bed. I looked up at the wall, where my sister had hung inspirational quotes, black and white photographs, and then a small, ceramic plaque caught my eye. It said "Expect Miracles."

I stared at it for a long time, and in my mind I said "OK, Jorelle. OK."

Some six weeks later, my sister began to slowly emerge from the coma and fight to get her life back. That nurse had been wrong.

Her journey is a difficult one since she sustained a Traumatic Brain Injury. Usually you hear about TBI in the news these days because so many veterans are returning home from Iraq and Afghanistan with these life-changing injuries.

My sister struggles to walk and practices speech therapy nearly every day. Her stubborn resistance to using a wheelchair makes me want to tear my hair out sometimes, but I also admire her tremendously. What dancer wants to be told to sit in a chair?

How far my sister has come is astounding. How far she will go, no one knows. Since emerging from her coma, she has endured endless therapies and bottomless sadness.

But she has also done some incredible things, and been helped by some incredible people, including my mother. My sister has:

knitted me a scarf for Christmas

gone swimming in pools and the ocean

walked, on treadmills, sidewalks, wooden pathways, holding on to her walker with fierce determination

she has learned to sleep alone in her apartment at night

she has adopted a cat named Houdini

she has learned to get up in the morning and make coffee

she has faced her fears and gone for cognitive therapy

she has read all of the Twilight series books and together, we have seen almost all of the movies

she has written poems and journal entries, and kept up with her friends on email and now, Facebook

she has gone on a date

she has traveled to California and Canada and Maine and Texas with family members

she has played cards with her niece

she saw Ani Defranco live in concert with me

she has flirted

she has complained about the snow and gotten tan in the summer

she has choreographed and performed original dance pieces; she is working on a new performance now

she has smiled the biggest smile - the one I thought I would never see again - while performing her dance piece

she has done grocery shopping

she has agreed to work with certain caretakers and fired others

she goes to movie night with a group of her friends

she has cried and screamed, and she has laughed and laughed

she has marked, each year, the anniversary of her accident, now six years behind us

she has gone to the theater

she has cleaned her cat's pan

she has helped prepare family dinners

she has written us all cards and shopped or made gifts for everyone in the family

she has learned to navigate, alone, out of her house in a wheelchair, and down a long ramp that leads from the back of her apartment, out into the world

she hasn't given up...

And she has given me that small plaque - "Expect Miracles." It hangs today in the entry way of my home, so that I can see it every time I leave and every time I come home.

Since it's March -- Women's History Month -- it seems appropriate to honor and celebrate my sister, who inspires me. Even better, this month is her birthday. Did I tell you how much she likes chocolate cake?

(Image above: My mother and sister walking on a pier in Hoboken, NJ. Photo Credit: Theta Pavis.)

The Greatest Show on Girth

I can't remember the last time I went to the circus. Well, that isn't entirely true, since we've made several trips to the New Victory Theater in Manhattan, which frequently features international acts -- some of them small circuses.

(We once had a high wire walker come right past us while we sat in the balcony!)

What I'm talking about here is a good old-fashioned circus, three-rings and all. A circus with cotton candy and popcorn and $22 plastic toys that spin and light up for no reason. A circus with acrobats and elephants, tons of clowns and death-defying feats of amazing skill. (OK, we've also been to Cirque Du Soleil, but my husband makes fun of it.)

When Ringling Bros. invited us to check out their new act - Fully Charged we decided to go over to Newark's Prudential Center and see it. Our VIP passes gave us fantastic seats and special privileges, but even if we hadn't had all of that, I think it would have been a great time. The clowns alone were worth the price of admission. They weren't scary (although my daughter's friend who came along declined to shake their hands; he did however think it was funny when one of them sat on my lap)! The clowns were a delight. Pure, simple, silly magic - oh yeah, and they did also ride an enormous, over-sized ridiculous bike with out-size rubber tires that they could bounce off of.

But it wasn't the horses and miniature ponies, zebras, tigers or elephants that made my husband stop and sit up - no, that job went to Dimitriy Nadolinskiy and Ruslan Gilmulin, two "strong men" from Uzbekistan. The circus says they met when they were six year olds (the same age as my daughter and her friend). They each weigh more than 300 pounds and gobble up more than 7,000 calories a day. (And you thought your snack time was challenging!) Despite that, they lift each other into the air with ease -- turning and twirling huge utility poles (which have swings attached so four women in the show can hop on for a ride. Oh, and meanwhile, a clown rides on the top.) The circus says this astonishing maneuver is known as the Turning Towers of Power. The friends got the idea for this part of their act from watching Scottish Highland competitions where participants tossed tree trunks to demonstrate their enormous strength.

Later, as if that weren't enough, the pair came back out -- dressed in their Roman-style costumes, and took turns twirling each other - up and over, up and over, great, hulking, yet graceful acrobatic strongmen.

Only at the circus. It was a night none of us will soon forget.

How Much is that Leek in the Window?

As a child, I often accompanied my father to the grocery store. It was fun, but I dreaded the checkout process. Everything would be bagged and we would be ready to go, but my father would stand at the end of the line reading the receipt like it was a legal contract; often he stopped to ask the cashier questions even though she was already trying to ring up the next customer.

I used to cringe and wish I could just disappear.

Oh, if only I had paid more attention to dad. Case in point - I recently planned to make a potato and leek soup with a recipe from an ancient New England soup cookbook my mother has. I went to the store, but did not realize that leeks are, apparently, very expensive these days. (Who worries about buying loose green vegetables? Organic chickens, yes, but greens!!!!???)

Before I knew it, I'd spent over $15 on leeks, which is clearly preposterous.

While I have been known to clip articles about financial budgeting, and own several books on financial matters (like this one, and my new favorite, this one) I cannot tell you honestly that I have a household budget. I tell myself that even though I don't have one, I have managed pretty well. But things need to change.

Except for a one-year period, I have handled the books here at home central for more than 10 years. While I may complain about it, the reality is -- I like having the power over the checkbook(s). Even though my husband is better with money.

After all, he is the one who made me face up to my credit card situation before we had a baby - and that means my credit score is better today (and I don't have a huge card with massive interest and balances on it, either). The benefits of having the power are that 1) he doesn't know when I buy something ridiculous (like $6 dollar window gel clings for Valentine's Day for my daughter) or expensive vitamins and REALLY expensive organic chickens and 2) I can always get out of bedtime battles with the kid by saying to him: "Honey, I have to go to the office and pay the bills." Then I check Facebook. (But then I do pay the bills. Seriously. Mostly on time.)

Now, you can tell from the above references that out of control spending is not really my problem - I don't splurge on things -- there just isn't enough cash flow to do that. Splurging for me is buying silly holiday decorations that will get thrown away, or buying the organic kale instead of regular, or sometimes getting a pedicure. But things add up -- especially when I go to places like Target.

But I don't have a flat screen television or an iPod or an iPad. Left to my own devices I will spend money on organic food, overpriced gluten-free snacks and plane tickets, before anything else. And maybe a massage. (And would a salon haircut be too much to ask?)

Still, despite careful spending, I don't have a budget. I tried doing it the old fashioned way more than once; you know, save all your receipts for a month and add everything up and you will know where your money is going.

Forget it.

I ended up with carefully calculated lists with which I essentially did nothing. We looked at how much we were spending at the grocery store and vowed to do better.

If anything, it has gotten worse. I shop where I go, so that means I shop where ever I have to take my kid (to school, to piano lessons, etc.) and these are not at the cheapest supermarkets in town although I try to stay away from here. (Gorgeous, but the prices are incredible, in my opinion.)

My husband is also better at shopping with an eye for bargains; for example -- on the rare occasions that he goes shopping for clothes, he only ever goes when there are sales and he brings coupons with him. (He is also a better cook, but due to his work hours he doesn't cook much and doesn't do much of the shopping, either.)

So, since it is January - I am making a few vows here -

1) I am going to buy Quicken and actually start tracking what we spend so we can pay off the one credit card hanging over our heads (before the zero percent interest deal runs out). I am good at spending, good at saving (a bit) and bad about paying down debt. I mean, we paid for our own wedding with over 200 guests! We should be able to get this under control, right?!

2) I am going to start looking at the grocery receipts BEFORE I leave the store. The leeks I bought at A & P were $2.99 a pound. Later that week my husband stopped at the local Korean grocer near our home and picked up a few more leeks for my mom for a different soup (can a family have an obsession with leeks? Apparently, we do) and they were $1.89 a pound there!

In late 2010, CNBC reported that food prices are expected to rise two to three percent in 2011, which is double the levels of 2010. They also said: "Meat prices are expected to rise up to 3.5 percent and dairy 5.5 percent." The pressure is on.

While researching for this post, I also found out that my constant treks to the supermarket are part of the problem and I am not alone in this -- which made me feel a lot better. This quote from an article on WalletPop sounds EXACTLY like what is happening to me:

"Did you know that half of all shoppers go to the grocery store three or four times a week and that more than half of all supermarket purchases are unplanned? It adds up: shoppers making a 'quick trip' to a store usually purchase 54 % more than they planned..."

It goes on to say that if you only go once a week you save something like $960 a year on things you would have bought as impulse buys!

So, I know I am not alone. Even my younger brother (who helps with cooking once a week since my mother is sick with cancer and we have a lot of communal dinners here) is constantly bemoaning the fact that one of us is always running to the store. I should say that part of the problem, I believe, is that none of us wants to eat the same thing each week. We are constantly trying new things out, which often requires exotic ingredients. Before she was sick, my mother was known within the family as a fabulous cook and she has four shoe boxes in her kitchen cupboard FILLED with spices (broken down by major categories, such as Sweet and Spicy, etc.).

But even she will run out of cardamom pods and her favorite homemade curry spice collection, eventually. We raid her supplies to cook for her, but we have to go to the store too.

(As a side note, I'd like to recommend watching the documentary Food Inc., only don't do what I did and watch it -- and then the next day go to the supermarket because you will find yourself paralyzed with indecision and end up spending your life savings on organic, gluten-free chicken nuggets and then you will have to peel the stickers off before your husband sees them. In the process you may damage the manicure you splurged on.)

Well - regardless - my last two fiscal vows for 2011 are:

3) I will try to do a better job of remembering to put my reusable shopping bags BACK into the car so I have them for the next trip.

4) I am not giving up the power I have over the household budgets; my husband doesn't want it anyway. But I am going to show him the Quicken sheets when they are done, so we can try to do a better job, together. Right after I update my status on Facebook.

Making a Kind Choice

One of the things I do is blog for a group created by Yahoo! called the Motherboard. It's a terrific collection of women writers who inspire me on a daily basis.

When I attended a Yahoo! Motherboard Summit this past spring in California we spent a lot of time learning about Yahoo! and getting a chance to meet each other in person (instead of just online, which is how so many of us moms communicate these days - even if we live around the block from each other, right?)

Anyway - while I was there I heard a lot about Yahoo's program called a "Ripple of Kindness."

The idea is random acts of kindness; one woman said last year she paid for people's postage as everyone was waiting in line to mail off their holiday packages. This sweet, simple, sudden acts of kindness can inspire people to, in turn, create their own act of kindness.

I remember thinking, well that is kind of cool - but what about changing the world? (I have a problem sometimes with these big global, over-arching ambitions....)

Then something interesting happened. Yahoo! sent the Motherboard members EACH a check and with that money we were supposed to go out and make our own ripples of kindness splash across the universe.

I cashed the check and kept the money, with little cards explaining the program, in my purse. And there it sat. I kept waiting for inspiration, or the best opportunity/cause to give the money away. Should I give all of it in one big chunk to a worthy cause? Should I dole it out and spread more ripples?

In the end I went with the multiple acts of kindness and it was thrilling and fun. I felt a little bit like a mischievous holiday elf, out to do good. I still want to change the world, end war and poverty, eliminate discrimination, racism, sexism, homophobia, cure my mother's cancer and make sure children everywhere learn to read and have enough to eat. But for the past few weeks I have simply made a few choices about creating a ripple of kindness.

This week was my daughter's birthday, and I brought donuts to her classroom. As my husband and I sat crossed-legged on the floor with her and her classmates, we watched the children take turns doing show and tell (which they call "share.")

When one little boy got up to show off a toy that makes sounds, a little girl in the class was ignoring him. She was sitting on the floor turning pages of her sticker book (which of course was of interest to the kids sitting next to her.)

The teacher saw this and stopped everything. "Your friend is sharing," she said. "Didn't he pay attention when it was your turn to share? Can you make a kind choice right now and listen to him while he shares?"

I hear them talking about kindness at school all the time (in fact this week the class had a "kindness party" - which including balloons and chocolate chips - because they had performed so many acts of kindness they had earned the party.)

Sitting in the class it just brought it all full circle to me. One of those - "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten" moments.

Being kind makes the world work better. If we were always acting from a place of love and respect and kindness, how different would our planet be? Idealistic day-dreaming, I know. But it seems in keeping with the spirit of the season.

Here are the random acts of kindness I have been able to accompolish because of the Yahoo! program. (And I still have some money left - so watch out! Another ripple could happen at any time!)

I donated books, through Barnes & Noble, for disadvantaged children.

I gave money to Gilda's Club - specifically for Noogieland - the play space that offers programming for children who have been affected by a loved one's cancer diagnosis.

I bought a round of drinks for an older couple that came into a hotel bar where my husband and I were enjoying a few moments rest in between holiday shopping.

I gave money to a woman shopping in a toy store for a gift for her 1-year-old granddaughter.

It felt wonderful and I can't wait to create a few more ripples.

My House is Not Made of Gingerbread

Does anyone besides me remember the show Once and Again? It starred Sela Ward as a mom of two who is about to be divorced. Then she meets a divorced father (who also has kids) ... and sparks fly. I wasn't a faithful viewer of this show, but the writing was good and the acting was great.

One of the scenes I remember is lovable Lily (played by the gorgeous Ward) driving herself nuts during the holidays trying to make a gingerbread house from scratch. It was a tradition in her family, but no one wanted to help her with it this time. She spends hours in the kitchen trying to work on it, she's covered with flour, exhausted and really pissed off.

I always thought when I had children I would make a gingerbread house with them. I don't know why. It's not like something we did when I was little. Homemade sweet potato pie, yes. Fancy cookies and gingerbread, no. Maybe one year there was a pre-made one on my grandfather's holiday table, but no one every built one from scratch.

Last year I bought a little gingerbread kit at Ikea (really, in the gourmet, direct-from-Sweden food area they cleverly route you through right after checkout) and couldn't even manage to get that thing unwrapped! (So sad, really. I should bring it to a duck pond for the birds to nibble on. Did I mention we live in the city? Not a lot of duck ponds around here...)

So, gingerbread houses are not in our family's tradition I guess. I did make gingerbread cookies once, when I first moved in with my now husband. My family was coming for Christmas to our home in Philadelphia and I baked -- my gingerbread men came out way too thick, like gingerbread men who had taken steroids and spent all their time at the gym, but they didn't taste bad. I put little red candies in for their eyes. After all the relatives left we found a stack of the eyes my little brother had picked out and piled on the floor of the TV room. Some of which had stuck to a heating grate and melted on to it. Nice.

A few years ago I even made a snowman out of cheese, with a little Pumpernickel hat. Big hit with the kids. It looked a little like this.

But while we don't have a gingerbread tradition, one thing we do always mark is my mother's birthday. She was born on Christmas Eve. When we were growing up, my brothers and sister and I would make, or order, elaborate cakes for her. We would make sure we had candles, and try our hardest to wrap her gifts in paper that didn't have Old St. Nick or holly on them. (I remember that holiday in Philadelphia, I baked her an elaborate cake that called for currants and rum. At the end of the baking you drizzled the cake with some fantastic glaze. My siblings were dubious - but mom loved the cake that year.)

So - every year we do our best to mark her day... We'd sing, eat cake, (maybe) help clean up and then usually mom would immediately go back to work, probably staying up until 2 am wrapping our presents long after we'd gone to bed!

This year we will all be together for her birthday, and the holidays, but I expect it to be quite different -- since our mom has been fighting an aggressive and rare form of cancer for the past eight months.

It's hard enough to think about what we can get her to eat these days (not that much) to contemplate making a proper Christmas supper, with all the trimmings. Last night my husband and brother and I all joined forces: we made a salad, baked acorn squash, meatloaf and mac n' cheese. We had fresh cider at the table. And mom didn't eat anything but a bite of squash.

Traditions and Transitions

This is my favorite time of year. I start holiday shopping in the summer (and when I say shopping, I mean mostly picking up small things for people that I see, which I think they'll like. On sale.) I love listening to holiday music, lighting the Menorah with my daughter (yeah, we are one of those hybrid families) and getting a tree -- the works.

Despite how ill my mother is, the holidays are coming along anyway. And my almost 6 year old is very excited. She wants to decorate, like, yesterday. She wants to sing carols and make cookies.

I don't think this year is the one to start attempting a gingerbread house like Lily. In fact, we are ordering a pre-cooked Thanksgiving meal this year for the first time in the history of this family. And I suspect at Christmas we may do the same (although I am holding out high hopes for some homemade latkes.)

But, one has to adapt, even in the face of tragedy. Case in point: In an unexpected turn of events, my father is going to visit us from California before the holidays (he and my mom split up eons ago) and we are going to try and set up the old train set he and his brother played with in Indiana when they were children. (My uncle is shipping 3 of the 15 boxes the train is in, to us from northern California!)

Maybe I will find a moment to sit on the floor and watch the train circle the tree. While sipping a spiked Eggnog. Maybe my husband will realize that this train set is ancient and a behemoth and he and my dad won't be able to get it working (a likely scenario if you ask me, but then I am the family pessimist) and we'll all just end up on the floor, spiked Eggnogs in hand. Either way, I am looking forward to baking something this season (something that doesn't call for an engineering degree) and watching my dad and daughter unpack those train boxes together.

Reading Between the Lines of Breast Cancer Awareness

Have you ever heard of Project Censored? The group does a terrific job of writing about under reported stories. They are a favorite among investigative journalists and other media savvy people. Well, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month (or Breast Health Month, depending on who you ask) and two things crossed my desk this week that could fall under the category of "Under reported Breast Cancer Stories."

One is that Black women are more likely to die of breast cancer than white women; they also get diagnosed in later stages of the disease. Now, I knew that already, but what is new here is a study which concludes this is happening clearly because of race, not because of other factors - like, say, not having enough medical insurance.

Women's e-News just reported that: "Researchers at George Washington University in Washington, D.C. say they were surprised to find that among women with health insurance, African American and Hispanic women experienced greater delays in diagnosing breast cancer than Caucasian women. The number of days from abnormal screening to definitive diagnosis for those with private insurance was 15.9 days for white women, 27.1 days for black women and 54.1 days for Hispanic women."

The same week I was reading about this, I had the opportunity to speak with Gayle A. Sulik, author of the new book Pink Ribbon Blues, How Breast Cancer Culture Undermines Women's Health. Sulik, a medical sociologist, argues that while "pink ribbon culture" has brought a lot of attention to and advocacy around breast cancer -- guess what? It hasn't actually improved women's health.

The book has been getting rave reviews and Sulik has been everywhere this month, including the New York Times and Oprah Radio. Sandra Steingraber, the author of Living Downstream: An Ecologist's Personal Investigation of Cancer and the Environment, said in her review that the book "takes us behind the pink curtain to a peculiar culture where sentimentality takes the place of scientific evidence, personal transcendence fills in for political action, and lofty platitudes replace actionable goals. Pink Ribbon Blues is the Frommer's travel guide to the country of breast cancer."

Columnist Janet Marshall from the Fredericksburg News in Virginia summed it up well I thought, when she said: "If you want my attention, talk to me about scientific breakthroughs and research roadblocks. Talk to me about treatments and trends. Talk to me about people and pain and progress. But don’t give me a ribbon, tell me it represents a disease and expect me to immediately print a story/make a donation/see the light. It feels blasphemous admitting that, but I know I’m not alone."

I am so glad these women are speaking out. I feel the same way. I don't want to suck on a pink Tic Tac in October. I want my friends to remember to get their PAP tests done, schedule their mammograms and take care of themselves. I don't want to buy pink socks or eat yogurt in a pink cup. I want to live in a country where everyone has equal access to medical care and the color of your skin doesn't have a lot to do with what your medical outcome, when you will be diagnosed, or how you will be treated. I'd like us to have an honest discussion about why cancer rates everywhere (and for lots of different kinds of cancer) are on the increase.

I am as opposed to pink washing as I am to green washing. With all this washing the United States should be clean as a whistle. It's not.

Forget the Lunch Box, What are Mom and Dad Eating?

Like parents everywhere I dreaded a few things that the beginning of the school year brings - like rushing out the door in the mornings. Like sending your almost 6-year-old to her room to put her clothes on (nicely laid out!) and checking back a few minutes later to find her playing soccer. In her underpants. I also dreaded the daily lunch box blues.

What to pack, what to pack. I am, amazingly, blessed with a child who will eat peanut butter sandwiches every DAY. She doesn't even want the jelly spread on, and you don't have to cut off the crusts - just spread that peanut butter. So you can understand why I felt like crying when I got to the door of her new Kindergarten classroom and saw this notice: "This is a NUT FREE classroom." I had the new lunch box, the reusable sandwich wrapper/bag, a brand new, chic, recycled plastic ice pack. I was ready - but the thought of having to come up with something every day besides our old standby, peanut butter, made me weak in the knees.

A few days later, however, there was an email from our class parent bringing wondrous news: the nut free rule was a mistake. I actually got up from my desk and did a dance, singing, to the delight of my kid, a song about how much I love peanut butter. I see the sandwich as the main course of lunch - if I have that figured out, it's not a problem to add to that - an organic milk, some sliced carrots, a piece of fruit, done.

But this is not actually a post about what our kids are eating. This is a post about what we, their hard-working parents, are eating. My own routine is to walk out the door with a travel mug of coffee for the trek to school. Afterwards I usually clutch it for an hour or more, slowly sipping while I get started with work. Eventually I will stop and grab something to eat - a piece of toast maybe. Sometimes a banana. Lunch is a similar game of grab and go - usually yogurt with granola. I just don't make time for a proper lunch or breakfast. If the kid hits a "witching hour" of being tired and cranky, I don't think my not eating a real lunch before I pick her up from school is helping my own state of mind.

I'm afraid it may be worse for my husband, because I at least have access to a full kitchen and can heat up some leftover soup or make something healthy if the mood strikes me. My husband often - too often - takes a frozen meal with him to work. It's not something I feel good about.

I often think about packing him a nice lunch too, but usually all I can manage is to wash him any extra fruit that we have on hand and encourage him to take it with him.

Maybe we should think about packing lunch together, just like we make eating dinner together a priority in our house. Either way, three squares a day is important for mom and dad too, and I'm gonna try to do a better job of that - even if it means I have to steal my daughter's cheese sticks.

Back to School, or Through the Cracks?

Last week I had the opportunity to attend the BlogHer conference, the largest gathering of women bloggers in the world. The event kicked off for me the night before the meeting with an invite to a private party at a champagne bar called Flute. I got to hang out with friends from the Yahoo! Motherboard group I am a part of, sip bubbly, and meet a bunch of other fantastic, inspiring women.

I was feeling pretty good about things, and looking forward to the conference as I walked down Broadway towards the Port Authority and a bus home. That's when I saw them - a young mother, sitting on the cement sidewalk outside McDonald's. She was cradling an infant in her arms, maybe 5 months old, while her three year old son stood at her side. I passed them, stopped, and swung around, frozen in place.

Could this possibly be an exhausted tourist, or was this what I thought it was? A woman begging on the street. Her son held a folded piece of cardboard in his hand, most likely the sign they had been holding up only moments before I'd happened along.

It turns out I wasn't the only one watching them. Outside McDonald's the Street Talk folks were, ironically, collecting money for the homeless. I spoke to two of the men who were there. (Street Talk provides income to impoverished and transient people who sell Street Talk newspapers.) They had taken money out of the collection so the woman could bring her kids inside McDonald's and get something to eat. I chipped in.

One of the workers told me the mom was not exactly homeless; she had a cousin's place to crash at, but nothing more. Obviously the cousin was not able to provide more than a place to sleep at night, and who knows for how long. The Street Talk vendors were hoping they might be able to get this woman a gig with their group, but even if she took her baby along with her, what would her 3 year old do all day? There are programs aimed at getting (and keeping) homeless kids in school, but preschool? What options would this woman have? What had happened to her?

As summer's long days begin to wind down, I've found myself anticipating a regular schedule descending on our home, the beginning of Kindergarten, a new school, the hopes I have that my daughter will have a great year in an institution that will nurture her. I've also been looking forward to buying her a new backpack and taking a short family vacation before September.

It's been a rough summer here, but seeing this woman with her kids put things in perspective for me. And I can't stop wondering about what happens to homeless kids like the ones I saw on the street that night. The Coalition for the Homeless says that there are 15,000 homeless children in New York City. From August 23 to September 17 the Coalition runs a project to raise money for these children. The donations go towards buying new backpacks and supplies for homeless children. You can donate here.

The number 15,000 keeps reverberating in my head. Homeless children have a harder time making it in school, but some of them persevere. While writing and researching this post, I came across this story in the Daily News about a young man who, despite amazing odds stacked against him, will be going to a community college in upstate New York this fall. I was shocked to find out he'll be attending classes in the rural community where I used to be a reporter and where a fellow journalist and dear friend now teaches. It is a large and vast world and it is one in which each connection can make a difference.

I emailed my girlfriend so she can be on the lookout for this incoming freshman this fall. It's a small institution, so the chances are she will probably meet him. The chances that I will see that young mother again are infinitesimal, but I can't stop thinking about her.

A Week in the Woods

I had dreamed that this summer our daughter would spend more time in nature, and less time in the steamy city. It hasn't quite worked out that way, but the Tenafly Nature Center offered a nice respite in the middle of this hot July.

I'd been dreaming of sending my kid here, and staying with my sister in the hip little town of Rosendale, where she lives. But work and family commitments meant we couldn't swing it, even after they called to say there was a spot for us (we'd been lingering on the wait list for weeks.)

So, off to Tenafly it was. We're big fans of the Nature Center for their family-friendly programming and trails. This was the first time we'd tried the camp however. The program is divided into week-long sessions and split up by age groups.

The kids started the week with a bang, tromping around in the woods, tie-dying fantastic T-shirts (complete with a quote by Edna St. Vincent Milay on the back) and making their own clay. During the week they also studied animals, including snakes, turtles, frogs and various insects. They collected leaves and nuts and twigs. Another day was devoted to fungi, and found them looking for mushrooms, examining lichen and doing some sort of experiment with yeast.

Trekking up there everyday from Jersey City however was a bit much on mom. A friend who also has a five year old attended the program too, so we split the driving, drop-offs and pickups. which helped a lot. But the last day the kids went to Van Saun County Park in Paramus to the zoo there, and there's nothing like Route 17 on a Friday afternoon to make me wish I were in Maine and not New Jersey.

Also, we were warned about ticks and took it seriously. Then on the very first day my friend found a tick crawling on her son after pick up! That really kicked it into high gear for us, which meant every night found us examining of every inch of our kid's body (my husband used a flashlight to search through her hair).

I guess I had hoped the kids would come home filled with a greater sense of wonder and talk our ears off about trees and frogs (or tree frogs). But it was hot and they were exhausted by the end of the day. Still it was a good tired, and we knew that the children had been outside all day, in relative shade, doing things with their minds and bodies. Not inside. Not watching movies.

Near the end of the week there was a campfire cookout which parents were invited too. The children got to watch the fire started by their counselors and then hold long skewers over the fire cooking hot dogs. We made s'mores and also had chips and fruit. As I sat in the shade smelling the fire, I looked up at the trees and could hear the leaves rustling in the breeze. It was very relaxing, even if the Turnpike was waiting for me beyond the idyllic woods.

Mommy, what's a password?

It started simply enough. One day the munchkin is watching PBS Kids and the next thing you know, she wants to visit her favorite shows online. Which is fun, of course. (Although it means I get booted off my computer.) But then Channel 13 promoted their Kids Club, and my daughter wanted to join up.

And so I found myself helping her register online for the first time ever, for anything, and getting her a login and password. I scribbled it down on a piece of paper for her but I can't find it now. Probably because I'm not ready to. I can barely keep track of my own passwords and email accounts and logins and blah, blah, blah. I can't imagine having to help her track this, but more importantly I wonder about the future and trying to protect her online.

Now of all the places she could go, PBS Kids is probably the best. I don't feel I need to worry too much about her on their site, or what public television would do with her information. But it sets a precedent. One password begets another. And while I know that privacy is dead, especially in this country, I would like to make at least some attempt to have my kid's privacy live just a bit longer. Like at least through grade school.

Is this too much to ask?

The Electronic Frontier Foundation (a wonderful civil rights group focused on the digital world) offers this advice to parents: check out the privacy policy of anything your kids want to sign up for so you can see what kind of information is being collected. We should also educate our children "about the dangers involved in giving personal information to strangers they meet on the Net. Make sure your children don't give out personal information to people they don't know."

There is also the old advice about putting the family computer in a place where you can see what the kids are doing online. Of course, this is already outdated advice for anyone whose children have a texting obsession and a smart phone.

In the meantime, the request to go online and login seem to have fallen by the wayside here. But the issue won't go away anytime soon, I know. My brother brought home a box of Kellogg's Frosted Mini-Wheats this weekend and the box is covered with a Toy Story 3 promotional tie in. But gone are the days where you can just get a toy in the box. No, for this promotion, you needed to get a code off the box and then go on to the Kellogg's site and set up a Rewards account.

What the heck? Why can't they just put a plastic toy in the box? Or ask the kids to mail in the code? But no, better to lure them in. All the better to track you my dear.

I have already fallen for this game with Tropicana. I don't need my kid to succumb to it as well.

I Took My Child to my Anniversary Dinner

We don't eat out that much around here. (Well, we are on a first name basis at the local Chinese takeout and pizza joints, but that's not what I am talking about here!)

I'm talking about white-tablecloths-and-a-great-wine-list dining out. Last night was my ninth wedding anniversary. We decided this year to include our five year old in the festivities. Why? Well, I thought it would be nice for her and honestly, if I didn't spend a heap of money on a babysitter I could eat more lobster, right?

We went to Court Street in Hoboken, a family run affair with a bar in the front and a pleasant, unpretentious dining room in the back. Did I mention that Wednesday's are Lobsterfest?

What I didn't know is that Court Street has some of the best french fries I have had in ages. My husband and I had to restrain ourselves from gobbling them off my kid's plate. They rocked. It shouldn't be hard to find good fries, but you'd be surprised. (I love the milkshakes at Johnny Rockets and it's my daughter's favorite place, but their fries leave a lot to be desired.)

To keep the munchkin entertained I had brought along a little coloring book, and that worked for awhile. I sipped champagne, my husband had an excellent white wine from Napa and we exchanged cards. But this was a meal with several courses, so I needed something extra up my sleeve to keep the kid placid and entertained.

Enter MudPuppy. This company makes some great items, including these self contained, totally cool magnetic sticker sets. You open the metal case and inside are two background cards (reversible) on which you can design and re-design scenes with your magnet stickers. We were first introduced to these a few years ago when my daughter had surgery. Her godmother bought her a set of these magnets (the dress up dolls version) so she'd have something to keep her busy while she recovered. Since then we've toted that set all over the place - to graduations and weddings, airplane rides and long car trips. I usually keep the set hidden away, so it is somewhat of a novelty when she sees it. We've used it so much that the metal case is bent.

Now she has a new set - the Robots one. She practically screamed when she the box. And we ate in peace.

So, to sum up: Court Street has a lobster night, terrific french fries, and your anniversary CAN be shared with a five year old. Just bring along some robot friends to help.

Let the Festivals Begin

Spring seems like it might finally be underway (or maybe summer since the rain is gone and it's going up to 80 degrees today!). With the season comes lots of outdoor festival fun.

This weekend Van Vorst Park will host the Spring Festival of Children. The Saturday festival will feature music, dance, sports and art workshops, as well as a gardening tour sponsored by the very active group, Friends of Van Vorst Park.

We've spent lots of afternoons in this lovely park, which features a small sandbox (pretty rare in these parts), a few swings, a playground, lawns to run on, and gorgeous landscaping and flowers.

The park is walking distance to several nice places to grab a snack - our favorites include Made With Love and Wonder Bagels. It's also next door to the main branch of the Jersey City Public Library, which has a large, cheerful, recently revamped children's room on the first floor.

It's a great place for family fun and even features a dog run for folks with furry friends who need a place to romp. We hope to see you there. Having played in this park as a child when it was pretty run down, I think the volunteers behind Friends of Van Vorst Park are to be commended for their tireless work.

Volunteer to Stop the War

I've been thinking about volunteer work and war lately. Probably because I was near the United Nations recently for an inspiring talk on how Eleanor Roosevelt was opposed to the development of the bomb. What brought me to New York was this group, which I have worked with, off and on, for more than a decade.

How do nonprofits like this -- international, accredited U.N.-NGOs -- function? They function because members give funds to run them (from large bequests to small donations) but even more importantly, they function because of volunteers. Over the years, I have worked with scores of dedicated women who give thousands of hours to organizations like the Women's International League for Peace & Freedom, one of the oldest peace groups in the world.

You may not know it, but this month thousands of delegates from NGOs and official UN member countries have been spending time at the United Nations to review the progress of a 40-year-old treaty on Nuclear Nonproliferation (basically, an effort to stop the spread of nuclear weapons.) With Obama in the White House, the effort to slow down the development of nuclear weapons has increased, even while his administration has said they support the development of nuclear power. One of our new WILPF members was at the talk I attended; she came to New York from Georgia where she lives and is involved in a fight to stop the building of new nuclear power plants in a poverty-stricken, largely black, rural community.

Behind the scenes at the UN are groups like WILPF and Psychologists for Social Responsibility, and Women Strike for Peace, and hundreds of others. It was inspiring to be there and hear about all the work going on.

These days there are plenty of places to volunteer, and given that my sister is disabled and my mother is sick with cancer, my family itself has become a volunteer cause; we have friends watching my daughter, bringing food to the house, helping my mother cook -- you name it.

But as the world moves forward, as our government plans for an eventual withdrawal from Iraq, I keep thinking about the young men and women the US continues to send off to battle in Iraq and Afghanistan. With Memorial Day around the corner, it's a good time to think about supporting some of the volunteer organizations in this world that are working to raise the profile of peace.

Photo credit: A "Raging Granny" and WILPF member sings for peace in California. Special thanks to WILPF.

There's Always Time for Good Music

Dan Zanes is a favorite of our family, ever since we saw him perform at the New Victory Theater in Manhattan, and our then 2-year-old went crazy for the music. He's appearing again in our area, including at a concert this weekend in Englewood at the Bergen PAC. Visit his website and you can get a discount

You can also catch him Saturday, May 8th, at a special concert at the Met.

He's very hip, he understands kids, he learned Spanish so he could understand and perform songs in Spanish and he celebrates multiculturalism. Oh yeah, and the music rocks. Literally. The holiday concert last year at the New Victory was a celebration of the holidays from many different cultures and backgrounds and was so beautiful it made me want to dance and cry at the same time.

Reading for the Gender Conscious

Like most parents of young children, I sometimes find myself obsessing about how well or how fast my kid is learning to read. I recently learned that March is National Reading Month, which makes sense, since in the past few weeks parents everywhere were invited to schools to read stories (and in some cases, celebrate Dr. Seuss' birthday - also in March!).

But in my mind, March has always been Women's History Month and on the 8th - International Women's Day. So when I think about reading, I think - especially this month - about the gender messages my daughter gets in the books she reads. I just find all too often - still - there are just so many stories (and movies and shows and their spin-off related books) where the leader or the main character or the one-who-solves everything is always a boy or a man.

That's why I love shows like Word Girl on PBS - and yes - she has some spin off books. Well, at least one, where she takes on a crazy robot. We love reading that because it combines two of my daughter's favorite things - words/ word play and robots! How could you go wrong?

Of course, we read stories every day at home, hang out in bookstores and the library. But we also have a secret treasure trove downstairs at grandma's house. Because my mother saves everything, had four kids, and used to teach disabled children in NYC's public schools -- she has an amazing collection of books. Looking for something on dinosaurs? space? the Vikings? weird science experiments? She's got 'em. Some of the tomes in her collection are these really old books you can't find these days - especially ones about gender - like a classic called "What is a Boy? What is a Girl?' which features really nice black and white photographs and explains that boys can cry, cuddle baby dolls, etc., and girls can be strong and have really short hair. We love reading that one too.

My mother also has a great eye - recently she brought home a second-hand book for us that she found at a shop in Manhattan. It's called The Cats in Krasinski Square (By Karen Hesse) and takes place in Warsaw in 1942. It features a brave young girl who becomes part of the Jewish resistance. What a marvelous, inspiring story.

So in this month of reading and women, I'd like to say - thanks Mom. For taking me to the International Women's Day March in Manhattan many years ago, and for always reading to us, filling the house with art books and poetry, and reading with your granddaugher.

So "Sue" Me

There were about 800 things on the family "to-do" list this morning, but with the sun shining so nicely we had to get outdoors. A quick drive got us to Liberty State Park - and the enormous Liberty Science Center. That's the place to go if you want to come face-to-face with Sue - the best T-Rex skeleton ever found.

Sue is only in town until March 14 and she is definitely worth the trip. What we liked best about it is that you can really see it - just get right up close and marvel at that massive jaw! those huge teeth! the giant joints of the legs! The other activities and explanations they have in the exhibit are all good too.

After a checking out a few other exhibits, we bought tickets for the "simulator ride." For $5 each, guests choose one of several programs and climb in a vehicle that looks like a cross between a small space ship and a car that sits on hydraulic lifts. My daughter chose "Solar Coaster" and rode into space, zooming through the planets. From outside, I could hear squeals of joy.

We didn't stay for too long though, because we had to leave time to play outside at Liberty State Park where lots of tots where exploring the playground.

One final weekend note - Jersey City's First Fridays are finally beginning to offer more events for kids. Last night we checked out a few galleries, and heard live kid-friendly music at Made With Love (where there was also face painting). Ahymn Espresso Bar & Cafe up the street also had another musical duo - although they were playing adult music. For sitting patiently through two songs, the kid was rewarded with a nice purple balloon. Very uplifting.